Sweet Caroline
by Snowfallxo
Summary: JONAS. For a Bostonian girl, living in New Jersey is harder than she makes it look. Falling in love with a Yankees fan? Even harder. nickxmacy
1. 4:1:10, macy&nick

**A/N: Shoot me, but I've been rubbing this in the world's face (mainly New York's face) and I'm not done yet. Plus, I got such awesome response for my first one with the similar topic, and I had a great idea for a multi-chapter fic based off the whole Red Sox/Yankees rivalry, and since there's plenty of real-life inspiration out there, I might actually update it! Chibs, I know you're about to kill me. Please don't. Take your anger out on Nick or something. You could, like, help me write the stuff from Nick and Joe and Kevin's point of view. I'd say that could end up being a fail.**

**So this is based off of my first one-shot, "The Offseason" (I recommend reading and reviewing, it might make more sense) and the real life seasons of the New York Yankees (eww) and the Boston Red Sox (yay!), and their real life rivalry. The Jonas Brothers are Yankees fans, Macy… well, creative liberties. Stella isn't into sports. No duh.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any baseball teams mentioned, or JONAS. Jacoby Ellsbury, Derek Jeter, and anyone else whose names show up aren't actually in the story, so no saying it's not allowed. They're just mentioned. So let's begin!**

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Assignment

For the rest of the school year, I would like for you to keep a journal about what is currently happening in your lives. Whether you use pictures, words, or any other ways of getting the "story" of your life across on paper is up to you. Make sure it clearly reflects what is going on in your life – I want you to be able to look back at this in a couple of years and remember it vividly. Start by describing your life right now: what grade are you in, who are your friends, where do you live, are you in a relationship, etc. Try to write at least once a week, you will be graded solely on the amount of effort it appears you have put into them – I will not be reading them. If you would like, write your entries like you are writing to a person you admire, like favorite musicians, athletes, actors, a relative, political figures – it's completely up to you. Have fun!

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**April 1st, 2010**

Dear Jacoby Ellsbury,

I figure that writing "to" you is potentially less awkward than writing to Nick of JONAS, because although I totally admire the boy (correction – I'm in love with him), he's sitting right next to me at the moment, and that would be pretty weird if he found out. Plus he's a Yankees fan. I'm sure you can at least understand that.

He's also my boyfriend – I think. I mean, we both like each other, as far as I know (he wrote me a song!), but we're not really in a relationship or anything. We're both way too busy to even think about maintaining one. He has his band, and I'm playing softball and lacrosse, plus I'm on the track team and the archery squad. And, to tell you the truth, I'm a little scared. If I do go out with him (publicly), I'll have to face the wrath of millions of fangirls who are going to want to murder me so they can have their chance with the boy. I should know, I used to (still am?) one of them.

But maybe all is not lost (it seems like it). This Sunday is Easter, and Opening Day. He's invited me over to his house to watch the game – Sox versus Yankees. I'm so nervous – I still don't know what I'm going to wear (note to self: call Stella), or if I'll bring his Sox shirt he got at the concert in January (maybe I'll wear it – again, ask Stella), or if you're going to win. We made a bet during lunch yesterday – if the Yankees win any game, Nick gets to ask me anything. Anything. (Luckily, this does not apply to Joe and Kevin.) If you and the Bostonians win (please do!), I'll get to do the same thing to him.

I think I'll ask him to kiss me. Or at least tell me that he loves me – honestly.

Good luck on Sunday, by the way. Will you win for me? (What the heck, you won't actually read this. But good luck anyway.)

Part of the assignment is to describe my life. So here goes nothing.

My name is Macy Misa, I'm seventeen years old, and I'm in my junior year here at Horace Mantis Academy in Wyckoff, New Jersey. I live on 54 Woodside Road, in a light blue house with my mom and my little sister. (My dad died a couple years ago – before I turned ten.) I like sports, like, a lot. And I'm a huge, huge, huge Red Sox fan. We used to live in Boston before I moved here when I was thirteen. This is where I met four of my best friends.

Stella Malone has to be the coolest person ever. She's also seventeen, but she's a year ahead of me along with her friends and my friends Joe and Kevin. When I first met her, I was completely obsessed with this new band, JONAS, that no one had ever heard of before. Turns out they went to our school, and she was their best friend. So maybe I got lucky.

And then I fell in love. With a Jonas. Oh, what the cliché. But I did. And it was perfect. You see, his name is Nicholas, he's also seventeen and also a junior, and right now, I think he's my soulmate. About half the teenage girl population of the world might think the same thing, but they don't know him. I know him, I love him, and dare I say it? – he loves me.

You're probably laughing right now, Jacoby. Or future-me. But this is my journal, and if anyone else reads it… well, let's just hope no one else does, because I'm not feeling creative enough to come up with a good threat.

I think I went my whole infatuation with Nick above. I could rant on and on, but I know you don't care. Whoever might be reading this right now.

Well, that's it. This thing has started. Let's hope it takes me in a good direction.

Good luck again on Sunday, Jacoby. Hopefully Nick's going to owe me a kiss.

with love, macy misa.

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Dear Derek Jeter,

I'm telling you, man, you have to win this Sunday. Because I think I have a problem. I really, really, really like this girl named Macy, but now it's been almost three months since we first kissed and I don't know where this is going anymore. She doesn't know it, but I've written so many other songs for her other than "Stay", the first one. They're all total shit, unless you're my brothers, who actually like them, but maybe she needs to hear them so she knows that I still care.

So maybe I should explain everything. Um, hi. My name is Nick Lucas, and this is my journal that I'm keeping for English class. Sometimes I don't understand assignments at all, and this is one of them. I suppose someday I'll find this and I'll spend all my time locked up in rehab reading about my teenage life. That's what happens to most celebrities, anyway. Why shouldn't it happen to me?

I have three brothers, Kevin and Joe, both seniors (I'm a junior), and Frankie, who's nine and is in the fourth grade. My parents both live with us, mainly because our dad is our band manager and our mom is… well, our mom. Oh, yeah, and I'm in the world's number one boy band, JONAS. In case I get amnesia while I'm in rehab or something and forget that.

I suppose I have lots of friends, but really, only two of them matter – Stella Malone and Macy. Macy. Sigh.

Stella is our stylist – Joe says we wouldn't be half as hot without her. I suppose he's right, but I don't really think of myself as "hot". Maybe other people do, but… I try to be modest. Joe tries and fails. Kevin doesn't need modesty – he has that charisma factor working to his benefit. And Macy… Macy is my world. Sort of. I'm not sure that she knows that or not, anyway.

She's coming over on Sunday – Easter Sunday – to watch the season opener. I'm psyched, I've been waiting for this forever, really, since baseball season ended. Think you could do back to back World Series, Jeter? If Macy read this, she would say no – she's a Red Sox fan. It's so sacrilegious, but I love her. Right now. This is teenage love we're talking about here. To explain the bet we have going would probably be helpful.

For every game the Yankees win, I get to ask her a question or to do something. I think we'll start out simple first – favorite color? (She knows mine. So does everyone else in the Orpheum Theatre on January 13th. Don't ask. Don't want to recount that.) I don't know, really. Because for every game the Red Sox win, she gets to ask me a question. I'm not sure what she doesn't know about me already, so this could be interesting.

Win, please. I'm counting on you.

sincerely, nicholas lucas.

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**A/N: Reviews are love, the Red Sox are love, the Jonas Brothers are love. I'll try to update as much as possible -- promise. Good inspiration for this story, it's all real.**

**PS. Final (real) score of Easter Day game: Red Sox 9, Yankees 7. Oh.**


	2. 4:5:10, macy

**A/N: Oh, my gosh. Eight reviews, THIRTEEN story alerts? Insanity, I tell you. It's the first chapter. I feel so loved. Sighh. I can stop listening to depressing Nickelback songs now. (I have been. I'm broadening my musical horizons, you see. No longer just Owl City and Jonas.) So here's your reward. Another update. You'll have to wait until I have more real scores for the next chapters, though. I don't know. (For those waiting for Vesper's Goodbye, tomorrow. Me promises.)**

**I'm trying out a new style… the journal writings, plus little random phone conversations, IMs, texts, blog posts… tell me what you think.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own JONAS, the Boston Red Sox, or the... well, you know. (I'm totally biased.)**

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Dear Kevin Youkilis,

You and Dusty are my new heroes, I swear. Not only did your team win the game, I got to ask Nick the very first question of our bet. Except there's just a small problem – I might have been a little hyper on Easter candy and I panicked and forgot what I was originally going to ask him. So instead of saying the original question, I asked him what color his eyes were. Don't get me wrong, I'm not colorblind and I know perfectly well, like any good fangirl, what color Nick Lucas's eyes are. They're that perfect, heart-melting deep chocolate brown that I love so much. And yet, with his trademark half-smile, he answered it anyway and refused to let me ask another. But he held me during the game. In his arms. Oh, the feeling.

Final score: Red Sox 9, Yankees 7. A lot of that is owed to your two doubles and the triple, Youk. Joe screaming at you is fun to watch. The first part of the game was rough, though – since the whole Lucas family are die-hard Yankees fans. Stella, who was also there, doesn't give a shit about sports, so I was the only one on my side rooting for you Sox. But in the end, you won, and all is right with the world. For now.

And so after the game was over and Nick and his eyes had melted me into sticky liquid Easter chocolate and driven me home, Lucy called and I had a real conversation with someone about baseball. (And about Jacoby – he is kinda hot. Not as much as Nick, though.) We also talked about Nick. And how I'm hopelessly in love with him. Head over heels in the moment, if you will.

Lucy: So how's Nick?  
Macy: Nick? (sigh.) He's fine.  
Lucy: You're in love, girl.  
Macy: Since seventh grade.  
Lucy: This is different.  
Macy: How?  
Lucy: You know him now. Like, personally.  
Macy: I know I do.  
Lucy: And he likes you.  
Macy: Yeah, we're friends. That's nothing new.  
Lucy: No, I mean, he likes you, likes you.  
Macy: …

April break is in two weeks or so, and talking with Lucy made me think about how much I'd like to go back to Massachusetts to see all my friends. I hope it'll happen, I mean, the boys are going to California for some record-label publicity junk. Stella's going with them. So I'll be alone, and that's really no fun.

Lucy mentioned that some of her friends (our friends?) are more obsessed with JONAS than I am. (That's impossible. Obviously they've never asked Nick what color his eyes are. They've never gotten a real, honest answer, so they don't know what color they truly are: "Um, brown, I think.") Yet again, none of them know that I know the boys. None of them have any idea – except for Lucy, who met Nick at his Administration concert back in January.

I wonder if they've changed, my old friends. They have to have changed, I mean, I have. I went from crazy fangirl to normal fangirl to friend. Close friend. Girlfriend? (Dream on, Macy.) I mean, is he still interested in me? See, now I'm off topic again and back to Nick. I really need to get a life. But they'd flip out if they knew that I know Nick and Joe and Kevin. Sometimes, I wish they were normal guys so I wouldn't run the risk of getting killed just for crushing on Nick, and flirting with Nick ever-so-subtly. I don't know if he picks up on these things.

Back on subject. My friends. (Not that Nick isn't my friend… oh whatever. You know what I mean.) Delia is the owner of a different JONAS site – one that's a bit bigger than my own. Which I've been neglecting recently because I'm so intent on getting Nick to love me. She doesn't know about mine, or if she does, she doesn't know it's me. I really hope she doesn't have a crush on Nick. I mean, he's mine. She can have Joe (Stella might get mad, but okay…) or Kevin, but not Nick. Nicholas is mine.

God, I hope the boy never reads this. Ever. I talk about him too much.

Julia doesn't like JONAS, last time I checked. (Which was way too long ago.) Maybe she's the right one to tell that I'm in love with Nick and that Nick just could possibly maybe kinda hopefully maybe be in love with me. And I know Sophie helps Delia with the site, so she's out.

Going to Stella doesn't help, all she likes to talk about is Joe. Or fashion. The first of which is a perfectly nice guy, but he's not his brother, and the second I have no interest in. So Stella isn't easy to talk to, either.

**stellastylist: **macy, you're front page.  
**nickmacy345: **um, of what? do i want to know?  
**stellastylist: **perez hilton. seriously. someone took a picture of you and nick.  
**nickmacy345: **oh, shit. what if nick doesn't want to be with me anymore? what if he's avoids me? maybe he hates me now.  
**stellastylist: **he's nick, macy. you really think he'd do that to you? besides, you can't see your face. you couldn't even tell if you were a blonde or brunette. there's just someone else in the car with nick.  
**nickmacy345: **how do they know it's nick? how do they know it's me?  
**stellastylist: **it's his car, and the boy has curly hair. and they don't know it's you.  
**nickmacy345: **keep it that way.

And now I am hated across the world as a possible girlfriend to Nick Lucas. I have wonderful luck, don't I? Fangirls can be evil. I think I'm going to start receiving death threats. One letter at a time. I wish we could figure out where the hell we are in this relationship so I don't have to worry about it. And I want you to win more baseball games. Haha. If I die, do it for me, okay Kevin (Youkilis, not Lucas)? (That rhymed.)

~ Macy

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**A/N: Nick's reaction will come within the next couple of days, along with bits from Joe, Kevin, and Stella. This is mainly a Nacy story, though, so don't expect too much. Sorry it's short, you guys were so awesome about giving me love so I decided to return the favor.**

**Reviews are love. Clicky the button. (They changed the color. I don't think it's green anymore. Regardless, just click it please!)**


	3. 4:5:10, nick

**A/N: I meant to update, but just didn't. Sigh. In kind of a bad mood today. When I'm mad/sad/etc I always write fluff. Not even angsty fluff. I'm weird like that.**

**Disclaimer: Ha. I wish.**

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April 5, 2010  
Dear Derek Jeter:

Macy's latest blog post. I can't think.

Hey Jonas-heads,

Happy Easter, happy Passover, happy Opening Day for all you Sox fans! (And Yankee fans. Sorry, no appreciation there.) Sorry for neglecting the site for a while – life is getting in the way, and maybe I'm starting to resort to desperate measures to let a certain someone know that I really, really like him. Either he pretends not to notice or he just plain doesn't, I'm not sure, but considering that he's three points shy of a genius, you'd think he might just be able to realize that I like him a bit more than a friend.

As you may have heard, the Red Sox won the opening day game, 9-7. Beating the Yankees made it better, but what made it even better was that I was there to rub it in the boys' faces when their beloved pinstripes lost. Nick and I have this little bet – for every game the Red Sox win this season, I get to ask him a question (any question!). For every game the Yankees win, he gets to ask me one.

So yes, the Red Sox won, and me, having this big crush on him, melted under the pressure and the look he was giving me from those beautiful chocolate eyes. Which yes, I know the color of, so of course, I crumpled under the pressure and asked him just that. For those who are wondering, they are "um, brown, I think" colored. But then he held me, my stupid mistake forgotten. So maybe we are going somewhere.

So yeah, the boys are fine, Stella is fine, I'm fine – going a little insane, but I'm fine. We started a journal assignment in class the other day – god, I'd die if Nick ever found mine – and it's actually pretty fun. I'm not telling you what's in there. A lot of what was above, plus all the really gushy stuff. Like long rants about Nick's eyes. His "um, brown, I think" eyes. Gosh, I really should shut up. What if he reads this?

until next post, keep it real – love, Macy

He read it, alright, but I'm not going to tell her that I read it. I think she'd sooner die than be aware of that. Part of me wants to read her journal, but that's just mean – I don't want to scare her away or anything. I mean, she likes me. And I like her. So… um, now what? I'm not one to admit it, but since you're a piece of paper, maybe I'm just too _shy _to ask her out on a date? I mean, Nick Lucas isn't shy. He's quiet.

Or is he? Is it scary that I'm not even sure anymore?

By the way, thanks for losing the other day. (Sarcasm implied.) Although Macy's question was adorable (my "um, brown, I think" eyes… gosh, I love that girl, like you didn't know that already), I kinda want to ask her one. Is asking her out on a date an acceptable question? We didn't set any rules, exactly. She could ask me to jump off the Empire State Building if she wanted to. Not that she would. (And not that I would, either.)

Other than hormones and all these mushy gushy thoughts about true love (part of me says "ha, that doesn't exist", the other screams, "it's Macy!"), everything's normal. I'm writing songs like crazy (and they're all depressing, too… I don't know why), Joe is as annoying as he's always been, Kevin is being Kevin, and Frankie is… reading over my shoulder. Joy. Frankie, go away. Please.

Well, I'll have to bribe him later to keep him quiet about Macy. But for now, since Joe's at Stella's and Kevin is… not here, I think I'm fine.

_so try to look in my eyes  
__and tell me that I'm not surprised  
_'_cause nothing's changing  
__everyone has to lie sometimes…_

I honestly have no clue what that is about, but it's nice and I'm keeping it. It's weird how whenever I write stuff, it's always the opposite of what I'm feeling. If I'm really happy, everything turns out depressing. (Like the day I wrote "Vesper's Goodbye". It was actually a really good day.) Emotions don't make sense. I guess what they're all about. Love wasn't made to be simple, obviously – if it was, we wouldn't have good music.

I should go, Kevin's home and I have to go duct tape Frankie's mouth shut.

~ Nick

_do you know what it's like to make up your mind?  
__tell me, do you know who's innocent  
__while the world is spinning._

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**A/N: Should I write from Joe, Kevin, and Stella's point of view? This is mainly a Nacy story, obviously, and a cliche one at that, but I want Kevin to have an OC character and maybe some Joe/Stella stuff because it can be cute. :D Tell me what you think by clicking the button and writing me a lovely review... they make my day, I swear. I'll reply to everyone, how about that?**

**This was a short chapter, too. Sorry about that. :P **

**love, Snowzy**


	4. 4:7:10, macy

**A/N: Not much to say. I lost a volleyball tournament today. By twenty-five points. To the protectors of Dormia. Oh, the shame. I wore my sparkly converse and my NJJ dogtag and we still were crushed. But there's this guy named Nick on my team, and while I was clutching my dogtag and whispering "Nick, Nick, Nick" over and over (talking about Nick Jonas, not other Nick), he served it and we got a point. But there's no one else on my team called Joe or Kevin so it wouldn't work anymore. (No Frankies either. Sorry.)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. As much as I love everything.**

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April 7, 2010

Dear Jacoby Ellsbury,

I think I now know what it's like to feel complete, and for once, not feel sad that the Red Sox lost. For once, maybe you did something _right_ by losing (don't take that too literally, please). Because now, finally, I have a boyfriend. And his name is Nick Lucas.

Oh, by tomorrow morning, I'll be dead, but as long as I die like this, in this cheesy, happy, blissful state, everything will be perfect. Because Nick Lucas is my boyfriend. Not Miley's, not Selena's, not nobody's but mine.

I can see why Stella is always ranting about Joe – she must have got it from me, because it's so incredibly easy to rant about any JONAS, but when you're actually physically head-over-heels in love with one (and he loves you back!) it just becomes so much easier. Not that I couldn't rant about Joe or Kevin for hours (I could…) but Nick is Nick and he's just… Nick. You know? You get it?

So the Red Sox lost, the Yankees won. Which means Nick got to ask me a question. And he played with my unstable mind afterward for a couple of minutes by not asking me a question while I ran through possible answers (true, no, maybe, pi and a half, Kevin, electric indigo, rainbows, unicorns, softball, etc) and he played with my hair. And out of nowhere, as I'm running through worst-case-scenarios in my mind, he asks, ever so casually, "Would you like to go out some time?"

The first thing out of my mouth is "what!?" followed by an "um, yeah!", then an awkward pause. "Was that your question?"

"Is it not allowed?" he asks, smirking slightly while smiling in the way that only Nick can do as he twirls a strand of my hair around his finger.

Of course it's allowed. So I said yes (well, honestly, who wouldn't?) and he's like, "Okay, so I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow" and I giggled in a very odd way and said, "Yeah, sure, sounds great", trying to be casual. But he was flat-out grinning at that point, and there's no possible way to do anything but melt when Nick does that. Or say no. Because he was smiling at me, and Nick just doesn't smile if he doesn't have a really good reason to.

And the boy keeps his word. At about seven-oh-five the next evening (I don't know if he timed that or what), he picked me up and we drove around for a while. He wouldn't tell me where we were going, no matter how much I would pester him about it. But he'd smile (yes, smile) and look away from my questioning gaze and maybe blush – in the twilight, it was hard to tell.

Maybe twenty minutes later he pulled up in a deserted parking lot with a small, run-down boardwalk going over a dune. The sound of the ocean always makes my heart skip a beat, and this was no different. He squeezed my hand and led me down to the beach, where the waves were crashing on the beach. He carried a small flashlight, my hand, and a guitar. Which only made my heart pound on faster. Because the next-best-thing to Nick kissing me is Nick singing to me. And having experienced both I can quite honestly tell you, dearest journal/Jacoby, there is nothing better than that.

"I come here a lot," he says quietly. "It's inspiring, to me, at least. I've written a lot of songs here." I nod and stare at the silhouettes of sailboats and yachts in the distance. "But I've never brought anyone with me before." He turns and smiles. I melt again.

We start a fire with some dry driftwood and some matches he'd brought, and he plays his guitar while I rest my head on his shoulder and sigh. He sings softly to me, songs he's written and songs he likes and songs that just don't have words.

fly with me rose garden time for me to fly hello beautiful vanilla twilight hey soul sister give love a try photograph a little bit longer turn right please be mine blackbird last time around hold on fireflies the saltwater room who i am paranoid the climb you belong with me two rebels vesper's goodbye when you look me in the eyes

and stay. my song stay. stay stay stay stay stay stay stay stay stay stay stay.

And after he's played my song, I look up at the stars, the little white dots that have begun to blur with my tears into one big shiny starry blob. They're not sad tears, but happy tears, and Nick knows this and he smiles. He takes his arm and puts it on my shoulder, setting the guitar down in the sand.

He leans over and kisses me.

Which shouldn't be anything new, not after January, but my body goes limp and suddenly I'm relying solely on him to support me.

He breaks away first, but grabs my hand and pulls me up on to my feet, and grabs a bucket, a sinister little grin on his face. It's about nine-ish now, and he knows we have a whole drive home, but he fills the bucket with saltwater and throws it on me, acting as if he's missed the fire he meant to put out.

In retaliation, I give him a big wet saltwater hug. He barely protests, just hugs me back and puts out the fire. I push him into the waves, he falls over, and pulls me with him. We're so wet it's not even funny, but I'm with him and he's with me and it doesn't matter.

In the end, we drove off, chasing the sunset that had come while we were in love, and nothing was out of place. Sure, we were sopping wet, Stella was going to kill Nick, my mother was going to kill me, and I'm not going to be able to function for a while, but it's all worth it in the end, you know?

Love and good luck, Macy xoxoxoxo

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**A/N: Vanilla Twilight, Hey Soul Sister, Photograph, Blackbird, Fireflies, The Saltwater Room, The Climb, You Belong With Me, and Two Rebels. Name the artists :D shouldn't be too hard at all. Oh, and review! Please!? The button is yellow and right below. Even the smallest "awesome" or "update soon" is appreciated greatly.**


	5. 4:26:10, macy

**A/N: it's late and i'm tired and i just want to go to bed but i shall update first because i am that awesome. :D**

**disclaimer: i don't own anything. because the jonas brothers like the yankees.**

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Dear Nicholas,

Holy shit, it's been two and a half weeks and I've just gotten back from vacation and realized that I just haven't been writing in this thing. I mean, maybe I've got some excuses, the Sox are doing positively awful and the Yankees are doing great (you do a great job of calling me and rubbing that in my face, thank you very much) but you and Stella and Joe and Kevin aren't going to be back from Cali for another FOUR days. There is no way I will survive this. I'm going through JONAS withdrawal, but it's nothing like what I used to experience. This is different.

Because you're my boyfriend, and you're not here, and I haven't seen you for a week and a half and it'll be two by the time you're back? Are girls hot in California? (I've never been.) Don't forget about little old Macy Misa back home, president of your fan club and your girlfriend. You know?

Enough about that, imaginary Nick replacement. More about my week off, I guess? My week in solitude? My two days in Massachusetts?

Yeah, I took a train to visit my friends all by myself. For the first time in two years or so, I've seen some of these girls, and god, they've changed. Think I'm a superfan? (Of course not, you've seen everything the world has to offer to you boys.) You've never met my friends Sophie and Delia. Insanity, the two of them. They're twins, identical twins, and they seem intent on making a JONAS theirs. Sophie's got a crush on you. I might have gotten a little possessive when she told me that. (Is growling possessive?)

Other than that, they're all pretty much the way I left them, my bestest JONAS-heads. (No offense to Fred and everyone else. We are the original ones.) And then there's Julia, who despises you. I might actually consider telling her, because she won't freak out. I've changed, though, and I can see that. I never bring up the fact that I know you. I maybe mention that I've got a boyfriend, but…

Delia: So… any cute boys in Jersey?  
Me: Um, a couple.  
Sophie: Do you have a boyfriend?  
Me: Since when are you all up in my personal life? Maybe, I have a boyfriend.  
Julia: What kind of a lame answer is "maybe"? It's a yes or a no.  
Lucy: Gosh, the answer is a maybe if we're talking about Nick.  
Delia: His name is Nick!? That's so cool! What does he look like?  
Julia: Is he nice?  
Sophie: Does he have a brother?

After Delia punched Sophie in the arm, I told them that you're very cute, you have pretty "um, brown, I think" eyes, that you're probably the nicest person I've ever met, and yes, you have three brothers. They gush over you for a minute or so until Sophie decides to ask, "Do you have a picture of him?"

I don't carry one with me, that's the thing. I have my diabetes dogtag and a handful of concert shirts, like any good fangirl, and even the Sox shirt, but no, I don't carry around a picture of you with me. Which could be a good thing. I lie down on her bed and look to the ceiling, where I see a picture of you hanging. "Not with me."

"Awww." And the subject quickly moves on to other subjects. Later we come back to you and your brothers, and oh, did you hear about the girl who was in the car with Nick on Easter day? Julia rolls her eyes, Lucy sends me a glance, and Delia mentions something about wanting to be her. Gosh, at that moment, absolutely not – this was awkward enough.

"They're in LA now," Delia remarks. I nod, I know that, and I'm especially aware of that now that I'm sitting here back in Jersey alone because you've left me… well, not really. But… on with the story.

Julia offers for me to stay at her place and Lucy ends up staying over too. The twins stay at their house. It's in the car on the way over that Julia asks about you again.

Julia: So, Lucy, you've met said Nick?  
Lucy: Briefly. In January. (glances at me)  
Me: Yup. January.  
Julia: Don't tell me you managed to drag your boyfriend to a Jonas concert.  
Me: It was Nick Lucas and the Administration. And I didn't drag him.  
Lucy: Yeah, "drag" is not the right word.  
Julia: You have a thing for guys named Nick, don't you?  
Me: A _guy _named Nick. There's only one.  
Julia: Um, there's two. Unless you've stopped liking JONAS. Like me.  
Lucy: Jules, you never liked them.

At that moment, you decided to call me. (You have impeccable timing, by the way – I'd expect nothing less from you, though.) Lucy smiled when she heard the ringtone – Stay – and Julia rolled her eyes. "It's Nick," I announce, and answered it.

So sure, you remember the phone call, but I recorded it on my phone and I'm going to transcript it here because we're not going to remember it in three years, you know?

me: Hey, singer-boy.  
you: 'Sup, fangirl?  
me: I'm in Massachusetts. With my friends.  
you: Say hi to your failing Red Sox for me, will you?  
me: I most certainly will not. So how's Cali?  
you: Hot. Not that we'd know, being trapped inside air conditioned conference rooms all day.  
me: Fun for you. Can't say I'm jealous. Lucy says hi. And my friend Julia doesn't quite get who you are.  
you: You haven't told them?  
me: Delia and Sophie would attack me. I suppose you don't want to be coming to my funeral? They're worse than I ever was.  
you: You've hurt me enough times in the hallway so I know that you were pretty bad. Can't say you were the worst, though.  
me: Um, thanks, I guess. Julia wants to talk to you.

My phone ran out of memory. Haha. But you remember what happened – Julia actually freaked out when she realized it was Nick Lucas on the other end, dropped the phone, lost control of the car, and crashed into a garbage can. I remember Joe's laughter in the background more than I remember your reaction.

The only thing I still feel guilty about, however, is not telling the twins. It feels almost wrong to keep secrets. (it is wrong to keep secrets) but maybe it would be better to surprise them? I mean, go on tour with you and then take them to meet you? (Keep Big Man near you just in case.) I just don't like lying. And I'm a good liar (unlike Kevin, no offense to your brother), so it just feels even worse when they believe me.

Not that I lied. I merely avoided the truth. Oh, life really sucks without you and your perfect advice. And your voice. Phone connections are crappy if you're trying to sing to someone on the other end. (Luckily, that person was you singing to me, not the other way around.)

I kinda sound clingy and desperate and stupid, like I can't live without you (I can, I just struggle a lot), so I'm going to stop here to keep future-me and you from laughing at me.

T-minus four days until arrival.

I miss you.

_love always, Macy_

_

* * *

_**reviews are lovely things. like jonas brothers and butterfly wings. why do i tire of counting sheep? when i'm far too tired to fall asleep? (please take me away from here.......)**


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